My middle daughter and I stood by the entrance of the studio where we were for her voice lessons, looking out into the pouring rain. Our car was a short walk away. Mulling over whether to wait for the rain to stop or get wet, I asked her if we should do it kdrama style and run with my jacket over our heads. She enthusiastically agreed and we ran, my thick fleece held over both our heads, my arm encircling her neck. For a moment, it hit me how much she had grown. A couple of inches taller than I am, in that enclosed space it felt like I was engulfed by her.

Shaking off the water, we slid into our seats and I had the wipers at full blast. Easing into the main road, I took my time going home. She turned the radio on and Unholy by Sam Smith came on. We both laughed. I didn’t say anything and we bopped to the unholiest of music that a mom daughter can listen together and reached home still high on the momentary bonding.

Through the day, I kept getting assailed by thoughts on how much my kids have grown. I always knew I would be a better mother to older daughters than to younger ones and today felt validating. With four full years to go before they leave home for college (hopefully!), the best time of our collective lives is ahead. We skirt that edge between mom-daughter and mentor-friend seamlessly. I discipline them and in the same breath make plans to go on a mommy daughter outing.

For their birthday this year, I pulled them out of school and spent the day aimlessly wandering the aisles of a local crystal shop and later getting drinks at Starbucks. We stood in the chill spring afternoon, the sun beating down on us, sipping on coffees and laughing about how much junk we bought. I took pictures and promptly favorited them knowing these pictures will remain among my top memories as I age and they fly the coop.

With each passing year, I can see how our relationship can and will morph. I am excited and anxious at the same time. Raising teenagers has been a lot fun-ner than I thought it would be.

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